


messy

by buckgaybarnes



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism to an extent i suppose, Facials, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shame kink, if you would like to read 1k words of hermann jerking off on newt's face, this is the fic for you!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 19:12:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buckgaybarnes/pseuds/buckgaybarnes
Summary: The same day Newton makes an embarrassment of himself and Hermann in front of Ranger Becket and throws kaiju intestines all over the lab for no good reason, Newton follows Hermann back to his quarters with his hands in his pockets and a mask of perfect innocence. As if he expects to be rewarded for his behavior.





	messy

**Author's Note:**

> i really have nothing to say for myself

The same day Newton makes an embarrassment of himself and Hermann in front of Ranger Becket _and_ throws kaiju intestines all over the lab for no good reason, Newton follows Hermann back to his quarters with his hands in his pockets and a mask of perfect innocence. As if he expects to be rewarded for his behavior. Or, at the very least, like he expects Hermann to behave as if it’s one of their good days where Hermann isn’t _very clearly_ furious with him. “Sorry about today,” Newton says, leaning against the wall casually while he watches Hermann unlock the door, “but you were _kind_ of being a pain in the ass.”

Hermann ignores him, pushes the door open, and Newton trails in behind him. “Get the door,” Hermann orders, and Newton obliges. Hermann hears it click as it locks. He makes his way to his desk, turns the chair around to face the bed, leans his cane up against the side and sits down. He shrugs off his blazer and delicately begins to undo the buttons of his cuffs. “You’re welcome to undress,” Hermann continues, glancing up over his glasses to see Newton look smug.

“Sweet,” Newton says, kicking off his loosely-laced boots and unknotting his tie. Always so eager, fast, clumsy. _Messy_ —Newton’s shirt is stained with neutralized kaiju blood, and he reeks of sweat and whatever chemicals he uses to preserve his samples. (Disgusting.) “I knew you weren’t _too_ pissed.” Newton strips off his shirt, stumbles in his haste to remove his corduroys and flop himself down onto Hermann’s bed at the same time.

“No,” Hermann says. He rolls up his right shirt cuff. He can feel Newton’s eyes on him from his perch on the bed. He doesn’t look up. “Of course not.”

“Should I—you know—get myself ready?” Newton says.

Hermann does look up, then. Newton is in only his boxers, smiling cheekily, legs splayed wide. He wiggles his eyebrows behind his glasses. “No,” Hermann repeats. He rolls up his left shirt cuff. “No, I don’t think so.”

Newton’s smile falters for only a second. “No?” he says. Then it returns. “Okay. Switch tonight, then? I’ll need to, like, amp myself up for this—”

“Please be quiet.” Newton clamps his mouth shut. Hermann unbuckles his belt and undoes his slacks enough to pull out his cock, and Newton’s eyes go right to it. “Come here,” Hermann says. Newton scrambles to his feet and crosses the room with unsteady steps. He stops in the vee of Hermann’s legs, looks down at him curiously. Hermann can see he’s hard already. “On your knees, if you will, Newton,” Hermann continues. Newton obliges to that, too; funny, how he seems incapable of listening to Hermann _anywhere_ but in the bedroom.

Newton places his hands palm-down on Hermann’s thighs, spreads his fingers. He’s still eyeing Hermann up eagerly. Glasses still on. Good. “Can I—?” he says, trails off, and his tongue darts out over his lips.

While usually Hermann _loves_ to have nothing more than Newton suck him off, today he has something else in mind. He shakes his head, but he does hold the fingers of his right hand out just in front of Newton; Newton catches the hint and takes Hermann’s index and middle finger slowly into his mouth. “ _I_ was a pain in the ass?” Hermann says, deadly quiet, as Newton sucks on his fingers up to the second knuckle. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to deal with _you_?” Newton stares at him with wide eyes, his pupils blown; he twists his tongue around the digits. “Tossing _gore_ about. Refusing to treat me with respect in front of our superiors.” Hermann shoves his ring finger into Newton’s mouth, too, and Newton makes a gagging sound and _moans_ , deep and low, Hermann feels it vibrate with a thrill.

There’s saliva gathering at the corner of Newton’s mouth and running down his chin. A string of it trails to Hermann’s fingers—properly wet—as he withdraws them from Newton’s mouth. Hermann wraps his hand around his cock with a little hiss of pleasure. Mostly for show. “I’m sorry,” Newton says, as Hermann starts to stroke himself agonizingly slowly. “I’m sorry, can I please—” He inches one of his hands towards Hermann, but withers under the glare Hermann shoots him and pulls back.

“You _cannot_ ,” Hermann says, and he swipes his thumb over his slit with a low groan. Newton echoes it. “You horrible, disgusting—”

“Uh-huh,” Newton moans, and his fingers dig into Hermann’s thighs and his eyes are deep and dark with arousal.

Newton probably touches himself after every one of their shouting matches, probably spurns Hermann on just so Hermann will snap and shout and give him exactly what he deserves, what he wants—one of these days Hermann’s just going to push Newton up against his chalkboard and make a begging, sobbing mess of him. Newton’s always so _messy_. Hermann jerks himself faster at the thought; precome beads at the head, only an inch or so from Newton’s flushed red cheeks, his parted mouth. He’s going to paint that smug face, those _idiotic_ glasses. “—wretched,” Hermann pants, “little man—” Hermann feels his orgasm approaching—warmth spreads low in his stomach, strikes to the base of his cock, and he tightens his fingers instinctively around himself and bites into his lower lip.

Newton notices. “Hermann,” he breathes, “come on—” He parts his lips wider, his tongue out to catch what he can of Hermann’s release, but Hermann shakes his head furiously. No, he’s not giving Newton the satisfaction. He’s not letting Newton take _his_ satisfaction.

“For once in your life,” Hermann growls, twisting his fingers around the head of his cock, “shut your _bloody_ mouth, Newton—”

Newton lets out a little whimper, closes his mouth, and Hermann comes in thick spurts across Newton’s face, covering his cheeks, the lenses of his glasses, his forehead, the beginning of his hairline (so messy, Newton’s always so messy). Hermann reaches out and drags two of his fingers across the mess at Newton’s cheeks, prods at Newton’s soft, pink lips, and Newton sucks them clean with the same eagerness as before. “Wretched little man,” Hermann repeats in a low voice. Newton’s glasses have slipped down his nose enough for Hermann to watch his eyelashes flutter.

His glasses are filthy, in fact, and when Hermann withdraws his fingers once more Newton fumbles around on the ground until he finds his shirt and wipes them off on it. “Shit,” Newton says, squinting at the frames as he cleans them in vain, “ _shit_ , Hermann, that was really—uh—can I just jerk off really fast and then I’ll—”

Newton’s a debauched mess, and there’s something pathetic in the way his cock—red, flushed, hard—peeks out over the elastic of his boxers. It inspires a touch of fondness in Hermann that he can’t seem to squash down. (Typical, when it comes to Newton.)

“Oh, get on the bed,” Hermann finally sighs. “I’ll take care of you.”

Newton slides his badly-streaked glasses back on and grins.


End file.
